


Like the Dawn

by Adamarks



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Brief Mentions of Blood, Excalibur, King Arthur AU, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Nothing worse than canon tho, The dog does not, Welcome to my medieval times theater :3c, caliburn makes an appearance, i don’t use the word cancer but, its more like The Sickness, merlin!Baz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28131078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adamarks/pseuds/Adamarks
Summary: Many tried to lift the sword; all failed. It sat for years, growing dirty and forgotten, never rusting.Until one day, by chance or by fate, a man pulled the sword from the stone.-The rise and fall of Simon Snow, the one true king of Camelot.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 16
Kudos: 39





	1. you broke the dark

**Author's Note:**

> Suggested listening: Through the Deep, Dark Valley by The Oh Hellos

It began 600 years after the birth of Christ. 

Camelot was torn, lost. Its people scattered. There had been no true king in half a century, and a united Britannia had become a hopeless dream. 

Hopeless, except…

Embedded deep within a stone, rested Caliburn’s mighty blade. Buried into the rock by a messenger of God and engraved with Christ’s words, it promised the divine right of king to whomever could awaken it from its slumber. 

Many tried to lift the sword; all failed. It sat for years, growing dirty and forgotten, never rusting. 

Until one day, by chance or by fate, a man pulled the sword from the stone.

-

_ “I broke my sword!” _

“You did  _ what?”  _ He snarled. Scorching purple flame blazed past him in a mighty fury. 

“I broke Caliburn!” He held up the hilt of a sword with only the nub of a blade left.

“How in the blazing hell did you manage that?” Basilton yelled as he swooped his arms grandly. A tree flew with them, landing harshly upon the beast's mighty head. 

“Pulled too hard,” he grunted. The giant, scaly monster pulled back and lunged forward to snap at him. He tossed the hilt directly into its eye before grabbing it by the horns—

_ “Simon!” _

-

_ “You what,”  _ spoke a maiden of water and magic to the king and his wizard. Her voice was like a trickling stream and a roaring river. Her body ebbed and flowed like a wave. 

“I broke it. On a dragon. And then I lost the hilt—“ 

_ “Graceless ruler who cannot even wield his own sword,”  _ the lady of the lake hissed,  _ “how are you to unite this land?” _

The king opened his mouth to retort. 

The wizard deemed this the time to swoop in before disaster could strike. 

-

The king spun the hilt of the great Excalibur in his hand, admiring. “Beautiful, innit?” He commented 

“I swear to all above, Simon. If you  _ break this one—“  _

A roll of the eyes. “It’s just like you say. ‘It happened as it should’ or whatever. I had to break Caliburn.” 

A roll of the eyes, but this time from the other party. “Bold of you to call your brutishness fate.”

-

The battle had raged through the night. His companions tired. Stamina drew thin. 

Its fearsome jaw clamped upon his shield; Simon gave a weary kick. His eyes darted towards the horizon. The sky was just beginning to lighten from black to dark blue, but still no sun shone upon Britannia. 

A spear flew past him and landed in its meaty hide. Another of many. Simon took his escape, scrambling away from its gaping maw. 

Glancing back, he saw the Lady Penelope, panting and bloodied. Her chainmail torn in several places. One of the wooden guards on her shins was nowhere to be found. 

“We have to retreat, Simon,” she cried. 

Simon gripped the hilt of his sword. His palm was slick— perhaps sweat or blood. But under the wet and the exhaustion, Excalibur whispered something: warmth under his fingers; she was beginning to turn golden. Simon heard her clear as day: 

_ Wait.  _

“Not yet!” He shouted. 

_ “Simon—“  _

A giant paw swung at him. Roots flew from under the earth to catch it before the strike could hit. 

“We need to  _ leave,”  _ shouted Basilton. He was strained. He was tired. His hair was a mess and his blue tunica was stained angry browns and reds. 

Simon hacked at the captive paw. The giant screamed. 

_ “Wait!”  _

Just as he shouted that, the first flame licked up Excalibur’s blade. 

Simon turned his face to the horizon. The first rays of sun pressed their palms against the skies. Hope filled his chest. 

_ Dawn. _

-

The marriage was loveless. It was convenient and easy and quick. A treaty more than an act of love. Basilton disapproved. The king felt lost. The queen wanted to be left alone. 

The Lady Agatha was pronounced the most beautiful in all Britannia. She had hair spun from the light of stars, and eyes like tree bark in the dead of winter. And as her hands were tied to the king’s, she told him she’d never love him as a husband. 

The king, with all his heart, agreed. 

-

He was golden in the afternoon light; scales of a dragon dwelled beneath his skin. His hair was ablaze with the light of the sky’s brightest dawn. His wings, feathered and taught hide, burned as a setting sun. 

Excalibur’s blade crackled with flame. The king was the sun, and his kingdom lived by his light. 

The knight Shepard grasped the cup of Christ, and the king looked to his wizard. He appeared weary, they’d been travelling for many-a-week. His long hair was undone. His clothes dirtied and distressed. 

As proof of God was admired beside him, the king could only think:  _ how lovely he is.  _

-

Banquets are always rowdy. The queen mops up her barley soup with a piece of bread as someone falls off a table. Sir Shepard leans over the king, words and laughter spilling from his mouth. The king snorts back like a hog around his bread. 

Across the hall, a bard plays his song, and knights sing with him in great accord. Something crass with an easy rhyme. A shining star in the dark December night. 

The affair was the breath of a small child, readying to blow out a candle flame. Anticipation and joy being held in delicate lungs before—

-

The throne room was cleared excepting the two. Neither of them spoke as the wizard moved to recline in the queen’s seat. The king rubbed his weary eyes. He wished his wizard to sit with him instead. 

His inky black hair toppled over his shoulder; it was a dark stain upon the rich purple mantle he wore. Simon contemplated that he looked more kingly than he ever could. 

“You look ill.” Baz’s hand rested close. 

“Tired,” Simon grunted. His own hand crept to grip Baz’s. He watched his gaze find their fingers. 

He moved to intertwine their hands properly. Baz let him, eyes unmoving. 

Simon’s head moved forward and tilted, until his mouth could find another. 

The world stilled as their lips moved together.

-

His hand smoothed along the stone of the stairwell as he climbed. The bumps and grooves in the wall told him stories he’d memorized but would never understand. He was heading toward his chambers, where he was no longer alone. 

The steps came farther than normal, suddenly tilting wildly. The wall came up to meet him. Instead of steadying, though, it rushed away from him. He couldn’t feel his legs. His vision faded.

And so, the king began to fall. 

-

_ Like the sun dost he rise _

_ Whilst the land falls to its knees _

_ With fire in his palm _

_ Tongues of flame kiss his feet _


	2. you woke the world

Simon watched the sun set from his bed. This malaise was an odd one. He didn’t feel like a dying man yet, however, according to Baz, he’d been dying for months before this. He supposed one simply got used to dying. Or maybe, ignoring the fact that you were. 

Simon’s eyelids drooped shut before the sun had a chance to disappear. 

-

Baz had said that magic always took a little bit in order to give. Change water to wine, and a flower may die. Grow a tree to thrice its size and take the lives of countless insects and vermin tangled in its roots. To save a life was to take one in exchange. 

So when the knights Shepard and Penelope threw themselves into finding a magic cure, Simon was against it to say the least. They persisted, however, under his nose. Them and his wizard were relentless; a cure was at the forefront of their minds. Only the queen respected his wishes and, although she never loved him as a wife, sat with him often. 

Their minds were similar, in the way all long friends’ are. They had brief conversations before lapsing into silence. Agatha would teach him to embroider as he laid bedridden and bored. On rare occasion, she would read to him. Although the king lacked a way with words, she knew she was appreciated. And they knew they’d found their love as brother and sister. 

One day, it happened such: 

Simon was patiently tending his stitches. His wife sat nearby, tending hers. The room was silent aside from their gentle breaths. 

A sudden wave washed over the king. His hands seized up; his vision failed him. He fell gracelessly onto his bed, distantly hearing Agatha’s voice calling out to him. When he felt himself again, she was at his side, her lips drawn into a tight line. She took his embroidery from his lap, solemn. 

“That’s enough for today,” she said.

-

Every time Basilton looked upon his king, he felt himself dying with him. He had been stripped of his splendour. The wizard felt the absence of the sun every moment it set. 

He could go on without the love of his life, but he’d much rather die. If he were to expire prematurely, he knew his lover would be furious with him in the beyond. Truly, it left him one option: save Simon. 

Baz poured over scrolls and books and essays and documents. He didn’t sleep— he couldn’t sleep. His mind forbade it, and he didn’t fight. Any sleep he found was fitful and within the circle of his beloved’s arms. 

Books and lights hovered around him as he scoured for answers, leads,  _ hints.  _ A quill took notes, free of a hand. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair messed. Desperation eats a man like no other. 

He flipped a page; then his eyes zeroed in on a single word:

_ Avalon.  _

-

“The power of the island would negate the need for another life to be taken,” they were explaining to him. 

The king was skeptical at best and furious at worse. He wished he had the energy to argue with them. He wished he had the ability to get out of bed. He wished this bloody misery would be done with. 

“Something will still… be stolen,” he murmured. The three of them were sitting on his bed. Baz’s hand was wrapped around his own. For not the first time, Simon tried to memorize the feel of his hand. Any time could be the last. 

“Not a life,” Baz said, pushing Simon’s hair back. It was longer now than when they first met. Simon had been a peasant then. He still felt like one, deep down. 

Baz leaned down and kissed his forehead. 

“Let me save you,” he whispered against his skin.

-

Simon was too weak to carry Excalibur. It floated behind them as Baz bore half his weight. Simon felt pathetic and bare. He thought, distantly, at least he had the luck to be so close to his loved one. 

His knights had all stayed ashore. It was him and his wizard who would finish this quest alone. Simon considered the misfortune of Baz possibly going back without him. His grip on his shoulder tightened. 

“Baz,” he panted. 

“Yes,” Baz replied, adjusting his grip. 

“In all ways you were my husband. I wish… we could’ve been wed.”

They stopped. Baz’s hand found his cheek. 

“And you were mine, Simon,” he said. “And my husband you will continue to be.”

How Simon wished he could believe him. 

-

Days were passing in a blur. They were getting nowhere. Simon could feel himself fading by the bloody day. 

He was lying against a tree as Baz was off doing…  _ something.  _ Who knew anymore, certainly not him. 

The sky on the island was strange. Particles of gold twinkled at all times. The air felt heavy, but pure. It still did no favors for his difficulty breathing. 

It was midday. The sun beat down on his face. He sweat, yet felt cold in his core. He wished it over, so he could just rest. 

_ Simon… _

His eyes snapped open. 

Excalibur lay in the grass, not far from him. Her blade glinted in the sun and stung his eyes. 

_ I may end it, then,  _ she whispered. 

He swallowed, and his stomach twisted. 

“I couldn’t… do that to him,” he told her. 

_ End it. Not you.  _

His heart skipped. 

_ Simon…  _

He began to crawl to her. 

-

Basilton was at his wits’ end. A week of no progress. Nothing was working.

_ Simon was going to die. _

Suddenly, a magic ripple blew through the island. Basilton knew it immediately, as he’d know it deaf and blind. It was Simon’s hand wrapped around Excalibur.  _ He’s in danger. _

He rushed to their campsite. His whole being burned with panic. Deep in his soul, somewhere he was trying to ignore, these past months weighed on him. Even as he sped to his spouse, his magic welling in him, he felt exhaustion yank on him. He just wanted Simon to be safe. Whole. Well. He wanted peace. He thought they deserved it. 

He reached the campsite, and screamed when he saw what was before him. 

Simon was burning like the sun, part dragon with Excalibur’s power, and the blade pointed at his breastbone. 

Simon looked to him, his eyes sad and broken. As Baz called out, he plunged the sword into his chest. 

-

_ King of Britannia,  _

_ With the dawn you will grow  _

_ With twilight you will fall _

_ To trade the rot that eats you _

_ You must die and be born again  _

_ Into the very beast  _

_ You have slayed _

-

Excalibur gave her life for her king. 

Basilton knelt beside his husband, now scales and wings. No longer a man to hold. 

_ Baz.  _

He heard his voice in his heart. A blue cat’s eye stared at him. Tears started to stream from his eyes. 

_ Well, I’m not ill anymore.  _

A laugh— a sob?

_ I’m one with Excalibur now.  _

His large body wrapped around his husband. His forked tongue touched his salty tears. 

_ With the dawn I’m a beast.  _

Baz merely cries harder. It’s the release of months. Of years. It’s his grief he was hiding. His love overflowing. 

_ With each sunset I’m your betrothed.  _

Simon’s body was warm. Baz’s throat was raw. 

_ Always I am yours.  _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! This took me a shockingly long time considering it’s only like 2k. It was a huge labor of love. I’ve been obsessed with King Arthur since high school. I’d spend hours reading about it. So when Nena prompted King Arthur au into the world I said... damn. It’s my time. 
> 
> I’d like to thank clev for reading over this for me, the oh hellos album that let me write this, and uhhh my own brain for coming up with an original way to kill King Arthur after a shameful amount of pondering.

**Author's Note:**

> #buryyourgays
> 
> Jk next chapter should be out tomorrow


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